“Hi,” Veronica offered.

Raising his gaze, Dominic smiled at her, hesitantly.

“How are you?” she asked.

His cheeks were flushed from the heat, improving his sallow complexion, but dark shadows pulled at his eyes, blackening them with a heaviness not meant for children. His smile wavered at the edges. He gripped Jasmine tight. Veronica suppressed an unbidden urge to reach out and hug him.

“It’s much better today,” he said, holding the bandage up for her to see. Then, after a slightly too-long pause, added. “Mum would’ve done it, she said.”

“Is your mum home?” asked Veronica.

“No. She’s at work.”

“What about your dad? Sorry, your step-dad?”

Dominic looked down for a moment at Jasmine as though consulting the toddler, or contemplating her, then slowly back towards Veronica. “No.”

“Where is he?”

Dominic shrugged.

“So you’re looking after your sister, are you? Don’t you have school?”

Dominic shrugged again. Veronica didn’t expect more than a shrug in answer to this – it wasn’t an easy question, and there could be legal ramifications. But the boy didn’t move with his shrug inside. He didn’t disappear. He wouldn’t confirm Veronica’s suspicions, but he didn’t deny them either. He stood looking at her, the adult, the only adult there, as though waiting for something, waiting for her to say something, for her to do something, for somebody grownup to take control. Just like she had waited – in Oman, at school, forever – for somebody to notice and act for her.

Her bike was within touching distance. Her appointment was soon.

“Shall I come up and wrap it for you again?” she asked finally.

What a stupid, stupid, stupid suggestion. After the altercation the previous night, what would Terry say if he found her standing in his flat? What would he do? Before she’d even moved from the pavement, terror gripped her. In her pocket was her mobile phone and she slipped her hand against it as though it provided safety, knowing even as she did so that if she needed to act fast, it was useless. She would have liked to call George, but how could she? With Dominic listening, what would she say? As he let them in, she couldn’t tell if the look on his face sat so strangely because he was apprehensive too, or relieved, or perhaps something else entirely.

The inside of the house next door was altogether different to her own. It reminded Veronica of what their building had looked like before they’d done the work to it, at the stage when she and George had declared it to be uninhabitable. A threadbare carpet lined the entrance, nipping the edges of stairs like grass that needed trimming. The walls were snaked with cracks and patches of yellow. A smell of mould or mildew hung over it all. Once they were up the stairs however, and inside Dominic’s flat, all of this faded to nothing, smothered immediately by the overwhelming stench of marijuana and spilled beer.

It was impossible to know if the state of the place was the result of the previous night’s party, or if it was the norm. While Dominic went to the bathroom to find bandages, Jasmine gripped hold of Veronica’s hand, peeking up at her from behind her legs and giggling gleefully when Veronica reciprocated her smile. Veronica examined the girl carefully for signs of alarm at the state of the room, but she didn’t seem to see, or notice, or find unusual the piles of empty beer cans, the array of unwashed plates encrusted with food, the cigarette ash that speckled the furniture and floor, the sticky patches beneath their feet. Veronica’s mind flew to the council meeting she had set up for that afternoon and, hand still caressing her phone, she wondered if she should take some photos of the mess around her. She shouldn’t be there, she knew she shouldn’t be there, Terry could return at any moment; but surely she should do something.